


Paper Rain

by myracingthoughts



Series: Darcy Lewis Bingo [7]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Arson, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Murder, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Revenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:41:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25975363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myracingthoughts/pseuds/myracingthoughts
Summary: Darcy Lewis wouldn’t have been caught dead in Vegas, but she wasn’t here for the casinos, or the spectacles, or even to drink in public. Darcy had a mission.One that Clint has a problem with.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Darcy Lewis
Series: Darcy Lewis Bingo [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1927495
Comments: 93
Kudos: 270
Collections: Darcy Lewis Bingo





	1. Las Vegas, NV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written for Darcy Lewis Bingo and checks off box C4: Rain

**February 2020**

Las Vegas was a shithole. 

After the Blip, before the Blip. Didn’t matter. It was all the same trashy show of greed, sloth, and gluttony wrapped up in flashy neon lights. Now there seemed to be even more people there, pulling levers to deal with grief and making bad bets to forget their hopelessness.

Darcy Lewis wouldn’t have been caught dead in Vegas.

Before the Blip, she couldn’t have been _paid_ to visit. But here she was, so, obviously, it was raining. That’s just how her luck had always been. A couple of days of sun in between the storms, just enough hope to convince her that maybe the next one wouldn’t come.

But it always did.

Case in point: The maid hadn’t come by all day, so her sheets were strewn across the bed. The ice machine was out of ice, so she’d have to drink her whisky lukewarm. And on top of that, she’d gotten herself locked out of her room, key disappearing into thin air.

Pretty par for the course on what had already been a shitty day. A shitty couple of years, really. And if it had stopped at that, it would have been an average day, but there was a storm coming.

And not just the one breaking overhead.

Darcy slid the key into the lock and pried the door open with a creak. And suddenly, she was no longer alone.

“Should’ve knocked. I could’ve let you in,” Clint Barton drawled in the dark, perched on the edge of the bed, holding up her missing room key in a show.

He always was one for dramatics.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

Anyone else would have taken her words at face value, but Clint knew better. Brushing off the comment for what he might have thought it was, shock with a sliver of misplaced anger, he chuckled. “Hello to you, too, kid.”

“No,” Darcy said with some finality with a wave of her hand. “No, we’re not doing this.”

She turned on her heel and let the door fall closed as she beelined down the creaky stairs before hitting the asphalt that led to her car. 

Darcy barely felt the rain pitter-pattering on the parking lot. Shaking hands were too busy scrambling in search of her car keys, thoughts too wrapped up in trying to talk herself out of searching her sedan for tracking devices. Her head was sideways, peering at the undercarriage by the time Clint caught up with her.

“Darce,” he called ahead. “I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.”

“You shouldn’t be here, period, Barton.”

Clint scoffed, “And you should be? Darcy, what the hell are you even doing?”

Her jaw tensed, and eyes narrowed at his tone. 

“No, Clint. What are you doing? Half the world fucking disappeared into thin air, and you’re chasing some former intern in a Vegas parking lot in a torrential downpour!” Darcy threw her arms up in the air to illustrate the point, water fanning out at the motion, “Really?”

Clint couldn’t meet her eyes at that one, shoving his fists deeper into his pockets as she ground her teeth at the silence. 

“Steve’s worried about you.”

Darcy could’ve rolled her eyes, but the huffed of breath was enough for now, “Of course you’re Cap’s errand boy on this. No one else had a soft enough touch?”

He shook his head, incredulous look curtained by the downpour and Darcy was convinced she had him stumped. That would be it; he’d go home and tell Captain fucking America he’d tried, and they’d both be on their merry way. They all had better things to do.

Darcy had better things to do.

“You still using Bucky’s .45?”

She froze. No one knew about that gun. The thing that’d been with him longest, aside from his hatred for Hydra. It was the last goddamn thing she had of his on this Earth. The one thing he made her promise to get if anything ever happened to him. And it was burning a hole in her purse at this very moment.

But there was no way anyone could have known that.

“Old guns tend to have very distinct markers,” Clint continued in a low voice, thousands of unsaid words beneath the sentence.

No, Clint Barton couldn’t have known she had it. No evidence would ever tie her to even knowing how to fire a gun in the first place, never mind carrying one around every second of every day. Clint was bluffing at best, but looking at him now, she knew she’d already given all the proof he needed. It wasn’t even worth answering his questions at this point; he'd assume the worst anway.

Whatever, it wasn’t like _he_ was about to call the cops on her. 

Darcy’s wet hair clung to her neck, clothes sticking to her like a smooth second skin. It was a good thing no one would care what she looked like where she was going. A quick phone check confirmed she hadn’t lost too much time, before hiding it from the rain again. 

She could probably still make her next appointment.

“I think you should probably mind your own business and head on home,” she said flatly. “Say a big ‘fuck you’ to Cap for me.”

“Darcy, haven’t you done enough?” Clint pleaded. “Come back with me.”

Darcy’s jaw clicked at the pressure of holding back every scathing remark she wanted to say. To anyone walking by, it might’ve looked like a lover’s quarrel in a parking lot, but they were two friends. Two friends who knew each other well enough to know that neither would back down. Two friends who’d lost a dozen others. 

Two friends who’d lost their loves.

“Fuck off, Clint.”

Sure, she wasn’t here for the casinos or the spectacles, or even to drink in public. There was a list. Bucky’s list. Some would call it a hit list, maybe even a wish-list, but Darcy was starting to think of it more like a karmic to-do list. 

_She_ was karma.

It called out every last Hydra asshole who had ever associated with the Winter Soldier program. Bucky had managed to take out the more dangerous (he called them _fun_ ) ones while he was alive and lucid, but there were still a few he hadn’t been able to…

The decoding had taken some work, but eventually, she found herself with a whole lot of identifying information and a goddamn novel of Hydra safe houses. 

All that remained were the rats scurrying into their hidey-holes.

Clint scuffed his toe on the asphalt, huffing a breath as his frustration bubbled, “So what? I’m just supposed to sit and take it when my _friend_ decides to start murdering people instead of mourning like the rest of us?”

Clint conveniently glossed over the fact that revenge was the last bullet on her list. Darcy had also been making substantial anonymous donations to local shelters, crisis support lines, and organizations helping out those affected by the Blip. It wasn’t like she was taking their stashes and running. She’d take the cash, redistribute it and then leave the rest to the FBI —or whoever the fuck wasn’t on Hydra’s payroll (probably).

It was the only way she knew to help right now, even if it was likely the reason she’d been found.

Darcy had a mission, a purpose now, and she wasn’t going to stand here and have Clint talk to her like she was a five-year-old. She’d been doing just fine so far without him, without any of their help.

“You’re going to judge me? That’s rich,” Darcy snorted. “Yeah. OK, Ronin.”

She’d clearly hit a nerve, watching the muscle in Clint’s neck jolt at the reference. 

And maybe the Darcy pre-Thanos would have felt bad for that comment, but this Darcy in this scenario didn’t owe Clint an explanation. She’d done her part and given them a year to figure this out. A year before she started trying to channel her anger into something palpable, something more than sitting around feeling sorry for herself.

Clint hadn’t even given it a week before he went full-Ronin and (she assumed) Natasha had to pull him out of it. Here he was, fresh off a kill-streak trying to tell her to get off hers.

That was rich.

“I stopped for a reason. Because it wasn’t doing any good for anyone,” Clint said, taking a few steps towards her. “Darce, you can’t keep doing this to yourself. It’s been almost a year of this. It’s— It’s not you.”

Maybe it wasn’t her. Maybe she wouldn’t be here if some giant purple alien hadn’t decided Earth needed a haircut. 

Those ‘superheroes’ everyone looked up to? They were just as clueless as everyone else on the planet who’d just watched their mom, or their brother, or their childhood pet get dusted. Some of them didn’t even make it out after surviving the snaps. There were crashes, and drownings, and orphans left to fend for themselves.

She’d watched every last news report and interview, read every comment on every blog and tried to convince herself that maybe the world would pull itself out of it. Maybe the Avengers would find a way. Maybe Bucky would find a way home.

But it just wasn’t in the cards, and she was done with sitting around and waiting for someone to fix things for her. 

“You really think Barnes would want you to do this?”

And Darcy was so tired of dealing in hypotheticals. 

“You must not have known him that well if you’re asking me that,” she spat out. “You’re kidding yourself if you think this isn’t exactly what he’d do.”

He was starting to look like he was fighting a losing battle. 

“Yeah, for himself, maybe. But he wouldn’t want this life for you.”

Sounded like it too.

“Yeah, well. I don’t think either of us will ever get the chance to ask him.”

The rain had started to let up, and Darcy was running low on time and patience. She unlocked the trunk and dumped the bag she’d been trying to drop off in her room before looking back at Clint. As much as she wished she could have her friend back right now, there were things that had to be done, and she was tired of fighting.

It wasn’t personal.

“Call me when you figure it out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This came about because I was rereading _Tales of Suspense Vol 1 #101_ (the whole ‘Red Ledger’ run is a really great read, by the way), and really loved the dynamic between Bucky and Clint. I’ve always liked the idea of them quietly looking out for each other in their own way, and I’ve really enjoyed exploring post-Snap content, so here we are.
> 
> I never say never about extending my one-shots —that goes for pretty much all of them— so I might come back to this later. But, for now, I hope you enjoyed this little scene. 
> 
> **8/24 Edit:** Now a multichapter fic 👀 I couldn't stop myself.


	2. Brooklyn, NY

**March 2020**

Darcy never did get that phone call, but she did make her appointment. 

It had taken longer than she would've liked to disable the cameras, but once inside, it was easy to find him. Alone and scathing, even at the end. They never begged, and at this point, only one of them had used the classic Hydra escape plan before she could do the deed herself. Most of them thought they were beyond it now since half the planet was wiped out, and they had lived in comfortable fucking luxury for so long. 

She had even cracked the safe, or rather, let her mark open the safe and shot him before it could close. A cool 1.2 million in cash would make its way to various organizations across the country over the coming weeks.

Nameless benefactor. Nameless victim. None the wiser.

It was a month after Clint followed her to Vegas, and she was long gone from Nevada, having snaked her way north in pursuit of one of the last three remaining on the list. The trail had gone cold long before she could finish the job. 

Her fingers traced the black notebook’s worn pages, Bucky’s coded handwriting in the margins with detailed recon notes about the security systems and tactical elements of each and every safehouse he could remember. It was the only souvenir of him she had anymore, besides his gun. Her own blue ink hatches marked every one she’d inspected and destroyed, or sometimes just bugged if they were especially nice. 

With only a few left, she’d be back up north anyway, though she’d been trying to steer clear. 

So, she ended up in Brooklyn, tucking her notes into a backpack as she got off the train at Grand Central. It was almost like she never left, almost like Thanos hadn’t happened with the rush of people at gates, queued and waiting for trains. The hustle and bustle of New York City. 

She couldn’t remember when the world settled into this ‘new normal’ —she had probably been too busy to notice.

Darcy hadn’t really meant to end up there. But between it being winter and March 10th just around the corner, all she wanted to do was be in Brooklyn on Bucky’s birthday. It was where she felt closest to him, which was ironic, considering their entire relationship had been in the confines of Wakanda, a world away.

But Brooklyn was a part of him, an element that never really left, no matter where or what he ended up. 

And, though she’d give Bed Stuy a wide berth, she found a boutique hotel not too far from the water that still took cash. Knob cranked up to the hottest temperature, Darcy enjoyed a shower for the first time in a week. No windows, no view, but a bed and a private bathroom were all that she needed. 

That afternoon, with her first real taste of sleep in days, and she dreamt of the first time she’d seen James Buchanan Barnes.

* * *

**June 2016**

It was Steve’s fault they even met in the first place.

Before the whole fight at the airport thing (which was basically a glorified dick-swinging competition if Darcy was going to get technical), Steve was looking for a place to lay low. The day Clint Barton walked into the lab to ask her for a very particular favour he couldn’t say inside the walls of Avengers Tower was forever etched in her memory.

“You need my dad’s old hunting cabin?” She stared at him incredulously, fingering the lid of the upscale latte he’d bribed her with. “A, how the hell do you even know about that? Pretty sure it’s in my second cousin twice removed’s name. And B, why?”

“We’re SHIELD, and we’re SHIELD,” he replied flatly.

“I thought SHIELD didn’t exist anymore?” Darcy sniffed, arms across her chest.

“OK, fine. It’s a favour for Cap. He needs… a place to get away,” Clint said, taking a hasty sip of his Americano.

Darcy pretended to think it over, humming and hawing because making Clint sweat was one of her favourite past times, “On one condition. I have to be there.”

“No.”

She shrugged, “Then, no deal.”

And she thought that was that. She had already booked a trip to the cabin that weekend, which was absolutely none of Barton’s business, and she was already packed. So, if Cap and his crew weren’t going to play by the rules for whatever plot they had going on, she was happy to go alone. 

But kind of sad about the missed eye candy.

So imagine her surprise when she turned into the dirt road she knew so well, only to find a black SUV already parked in the driveway. One that had definitely been there at least a day since the tire tracks leading in were long washed away. 

Steve was waiting for her, leaned against the doorframe like _she_ was the one in trouble, but Darcy was already fuming.

“You broke into the Lewis family hunting cabin?” she called ahead, putting on her most fed up voice.

She understood that sometimes superhero stuff meant crossing legal (and personal) boundaries, but really? This was a total betrayal of long-standing trust she’d placed in the Tower’s resident boy scout, Steve Rogers.

“Darcy,” he groaned, putting on his serious Captain America face. “It’s… it’s not safe for you to be here.”

But she was having none of it.

“Cap, if it’s so unsafe, you can be my personal, walking talking bodyguard for all I care,” Darcy said with a roll of her eyes. “But listen, this is _my_ family’s cabin, and I need a vacation. Stark’s driving me fucking nuts, and if I don’t get out of that Tower, I might actually slip cyanide into his morning coffee.”

She was mostly joking about the last part, but something about her tirade make the corner of Steve’s lips flick up.

“I need to talk this over with Sam.”

“Sam’s in on this too? Oh, he’s so getting an earful about all this conspiracy theory bullshit you guys are pulling,” Darcy huffed, doubling back to get her overnight bag.

Because regardless of what Sam decided, she was going to have a fucking week off at the cottage if it killed her. She’d come here to catch up on her reading, ignore her emails, the usual. None of this super-secret superhero business Steve tended to have in spades. 

The door creaked open before she could turn around to gauge the expression on Steve’s face, but Darcy found Sam standing there instead. He shook his head and looked at her with his signature grin, “You’re one of a kind, you know that?”

“I’ve been told once or twice,” Darcy admitted. “Still like to hear it.”

Apparently, after three levels of approval (she wasn’t even sure who the third was, to be honest), and a very genuine apology from Steve, she was finally allowed inside. And after a long, vague disclaimer on the dangers of their visit, somehow Darcy managed to convince them to tell her the whole story behind their break-in. She didn’t know how, it was just her superpower.

Darcy called it appealing to Steve’s patriotic nature, but most would call it doe eyes and a strong will.

“So your long-lost best friend, who you presumed was dead, was really being used as a weapon for Hydra — _ick_ , by the way— and now you have to figure out how to de-brainwash his brain because someone out there is trying to use him against the rest of you?”

Sam and Steve looked at each other, before Sam spoke, “That’s basically the gist of it, yeah.”

“It’s just for a few days until we can figure out the next part of the plan,” Steve added. “But I’m serious, Darcy. We don’t know what we’re up against here. You could be in danger.”

Darcy scoffed, putting on a confident grin, “I’m a trained SHIELD agent now —security clearance and everything. I can handle myself.”

A chuckle from across the room made her jump out of her skin, “Doll, I could show you about 35 ways I could take you down two yards away. Right here, right now.”

The whole room turned to look at the new addition, all scruff, a mop of brown hair and a glint of teeth. He kept his distance, hands out in surrender like she should be suspicious of him or something. But she didn’t know him, not the way Sam and Steve had, and Darcy didn’t scare easily.

“Steve. Sam,” he acknowledged to the two standing open-mouthed in the kitchen. “And you must be Darcy?”

His build was similar to Steve’s, though a dash more angst and brood. Oh, and the metal arm. That was a detail Sam and Steve had skipped over. But worst of all was the pain and the guilt hiding just below his expression. She could see that a mile away. 

This was a guy who’d been broken but was trying to climb out of the rubble of what had probably been a very different man.

“Darcy Lewis,” she replied, unable to tear herself from those steel-grey eyes.

He seemed to study her for a moment, eyes drifting up and down, and Darcy suddenly felt self-conscious. She didn’t realize she’d be getting checked out today, so the ratty flannel and ripped jeans she was wearing seemed a little underdressed for the occasion at hand.

You know, a long-lost American war hero standing there in the flesh, a little worse for wear, but alive.

“You stayin’?” he asked finally.

His voice sounded like a slice of what she’d left behind at Stark Tower. And while she could have easily cut her losses, bolted and headed the hell back home, something was telling her to stick around. That there was something here worth staying for.

“I’ve got nowhere else to go,” Darcy said with a drop of her bags, palms out in surrender.

She swore she could see a flicker of a smile cross his lips. 

“That makes two of us.”

* * *

**March 2020**

Darcy wound up walking down the East River, through Brooklyn Bridge Park, hat slung low to obscure her face. It was dusk, the crowds were few and far between, and there was still a hint of yesterday’s snow along the edge of the paths. Settling herself on a park bench, she hung her head in her hands and stared at the water through the cracks in her fingers.

She was furious. With Bucky, for not being there to guide her, with what remained of the ‘team,’ for trying to stop her from doing the only thing she knew how, but mostly with herself. Because this wasn’t done. Darcy wasn’t done, and it wasn’t over yet. 

The acid ate away at her insides, knowing she couldn’t give him the closure he deserved, not even for his birthday.

It was the first one she’d spent on her own.

Last year had been a mess of empty bottles and used Kleenex. It had taken her three full days to come out from her room, subsisting on pity meals hand-delivered by Steve Rogers. That had been the worst part, the look on his face and the silent judgement. The end of those three days is when she’d made up her mind: if they hadn’t found anything by July, she was gone.

Because if they couldn’t find some way to fix this, they had nothing left to offer her but sad looks and empty promises.

And she could do both of those things well enough by herself.

Darcy wasn’t going to kid herself with the idea that _she’d_ ever get closure, but the least she could do was honour his memory. The kind smiles, the mischievous smirks, his dimpled chin, that glint in his eyes when he challenged her. The countless times he’d saved her. Trained her. 

Loved her.

She lit a cigarette and puffed, watching the embers ignite orange in the dark as she stared at the Brooklyn Bridge in all its glory. If he’d been here, he would have tucked her scarf a little tighter, bundled her up in the crook of his arm and insisted they stop by for a late-night bite as a cover to get her warmed up.

But now it was just Darcy, forging ahead on her own. 

Unsure what happened at the end of the list. What she’d do, who’d she’d be. If she’d check off that last name. Until then, there was a mission at hand.

A peek at her phone confirmed it was just after midnight, and time to wrap up her personal pity party. Crushing the butt beneath her foot, she tossed it into the nearest garbage can before standing at the edge of the water. A breath of crisp air and a sigh filled the night.

“Happy hundred and third, Buck. I miss you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Look who's back with more. Hope you enjoyed this addition.
> 
> One tiny change to the previous chapter that shouldn't affect anything at this point: I added a month and a year. Since we'll be doing some time-hopping, I figured it would be easier to keep track that way.


	3. Paradise, OR | El Paso, TX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter checks off box D3 - High Voltage for my Darcy Lewis Bingo card.

**December 2018**

The muddy grass outside the walls of the Compound didn’t really scream Christmas.

There were no lights, no trees, no garland and no smell of pancakes wafting through the halls. Not that Darcy would have known that. 

She hadn’t left her room for the last three days, eating only the meals delivered by whoever was functional that day. Status these days varied from hour-to-hour, but something about the holidays had gotten to all of them. It had probably been a day now since she last ate, brushing off requests from the overly-friendly AI who insisted she ingest something.

A knock at the door sent Darcy curling further into her covers, her back to the entrance.

Eyes screwed shut, she could fantasize it was whatever she wanted waiting for her outside. Of course, Bucky would have been her first choice, but after the last five months of a fragmented team, Darcy would have quickly settled for Sam’s famous hugs. Or even Spider Kid asking if she wanted to play video games. She would have whipped her head around at the sound of Jane asking where she put that report from last Tuesday. Or her mom calling to check in on her. 

But none of those people would be on the other side of her door.

They were gone, and she had to accept that.

“Darcy?” 

Steve. Of course, it was Steve.

It would be a long time before she’d ever admit out loud just how hard it was to look at him every day, knowing he’d had decades of memories with Bucky, the Bucky she’d never know herself. And then there was the resentment, eating away at her from the inside. He’d taken her on as his own burden, in memory of his friend. In some twisted sense of chivalry.

Isn’t that what soldiers do? Promise each other they’d take care of their wives if something ever happened to them?

Well, Darcy didn’t sign up to be an army wife. She and Bucky never had the chance to be married, and as far as she was concerned, Steve didn’t owe her anything. Which is maybe why it felt so bad to just take from a man who’d lost so much and had way more significant problems to deal with these days.

But that’s all she was now: broken enough to be someone else’s problem.

“Darcy, you have to eat,” Steve pleaded, the crack of light against the wall the only evidence of intrusion.

She refused to turn around and must have drifted off before his shadow retreated, and the door closed behind him. He’d left the food on the desk of her room, where it sat until the next person came to check on her.

Natasha didn’t knock. Darcy couldn’t say when she slipped in, though it was probably as she fell in and out of sleep. The surprisingly vivid dreams, compounded by the lack of real sleep, started to make her memory hazy around the edges. It was hard to recognize what was real or not, so she wasn’t entirely convinced it wasn’t just a figment of her imagination.

Her only hint was the dip in the bed as someone slipped in behind her. Just as silently, small but mighty arms wrapped around her shoulder, the hum of a few words of comfort in her ear. Darcy could barely make it out over the wracking sobs at the thought of someone touching her, reaching out physically in consolation. 

Darcy couldn’t remember the last time she’d accepted a hug.

“You can’t do this on your own, love,” Natasha whispered as Darcy settled. “None of us can.”

And while Natasha slipped out sometime later, there was a sandwich waiting for her on her desk, along with an aspirin and a tall glass of water.

It wasn’t Bucky, and it wasn’t a turkey dinner, but it would have to do this year.

* * *

**December 2020**

For the first time in a long time, Darcy was in a giving mood.

She’d laid in the snow three miles outside of Paradise, OR overnight, watching a family of five celebrate Christmas Eve around a tastefully decorated tree. They’d had eggnog, sung carols and watched How The Grinch Stole Christmas before putting the children to bed. A kiss to the cheek and mother was upstairs for the night, 2AM came and went.

In the morning, his wife and children headed to a relative’s, leaving her mark —the piece of shit who’d helped reverse-engineer the machine used to wipe Bucky Barnes after ever mission— behind as fair game. Emails were incredibly helpful in learning he didn’t love his sister-in-law and would pretty much give any excuse to not being in the same room as her.

Knowing this would be the way to do the least harm, Darcy let him have his Christmas. 

But he wouldn’t see the new year.

She did one last check of the person in her viewfinder, matching their face to the black and white photo on hastily cut printer paper.

Today was the first anniversary of her first kill —a sloppy number that took her much too long. She’d learned a lot since then, gotten a lot more comfortable with herself and her skillset. Now, it was easy. Make it look like a robbery, a mugging, a suicide, then walk away and head off to the next state. No fingerprints, no tracks, no cameras, and she was as good as gold.

She was sure somewhere whatever was left of FRIDAY was pinging Captain Rogers once the police reports came in, but by then, she’d be in the next state in a new car and under a new name. 

Bucky had prepared her for this life, maybe not intentionally, but it was thanks to him that she knew how to defend herself. Learned how to clean a gun. Knew the easiest ways to take down scared assholes who should have died a long time ago. A few clicks on her phone took out the security system, and she was free to slip in through the back door.

Really, this was his fault for having uncovered floor to ceiling windows overlooking the dense forest. Sloppy is as sloppy does. Oh, and for working with a Nazi organization hellbent on world domination.

A lot of good it did him.

She slipped into the dining room, eyeing the twenty-foot tall tree towering over. After a couple swipes of her blade, Darcy plugged in the string lights wrapped around the tree —careful not to electrocute herself in the process. 

With any luck, it would provide a good send-off shortly. She could already see the sparks flying at the tears in the cord.

Flicking a widow bite onto his shirt sent her mark sprawling across the couch, rigid and out like a light. She dragged him by his ankles to his office in the next room over. Christmas lights bound his hands together, looping through the back of the office chair. Not that it would really matter, but Darcy considered it a festive touch for the occasion.

A quick survey told her the only weapon was an ill-maintained Glock underneath his desk, which she quickly got rid of before the groans and twitches started.

“We’re going to play a game called tell me where you keep all your secret Hydra bullshit,” she said lazily, sitting on the edge of his desk and spinning his chair around to face her.

“Please, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he cried. “Just let me go. I have a wife, kids.”

His pleas fell on deaf ears. The most Christmas spirit she had the past two years was not giving this dick the satisfaction of dying quickly and making sure it wasn’t the wife or kids who found the body. 

“I’m sorry, what was that? I don’t negotiate with fascists. A wife doesn’t make you less of a fucking sociopath,” she scoffed. “No, you’re not getting out alive, so don’t kid yourself here.”

Considering the lack of pleading from her previous marks, she wondered what was different this time. Darcy wondered if this was the first time he’d been at the mercy of a woman. If she hadn’t been here because of his Hydra connection, she still would have beat the shit out of him for what she’d seen him do to his wife the night before.

But her response seemed to sober him up, and realizing he didn’t have anything to lose, he kept tight-lipped.

“Not up to talking? It’s fine, I already know where you keep most of it,” she pressed the button in his monitor stand that opened up a panel for effect. “And frankly, I don’t have the patience for this shit.”

She rifled through the safe Bucky had left her the combination to and pulled out some interesting documents. Tonight she wouldn’t take the time to search the place for cash or take any mementos. Darcy was on the clock. She scattered the Hydra files he’d hidden in a wall panel over the floor, out of reach of the pooled congealing blood. Fanning a few choice pieces out on the oak desk, Mr. Dead was muttering curses under his breath and threatening her life.

“Fuck you,” he gritted out, jaw clenched shut against the pain of the electricity burning his skin. “They’re going to fucking scalp you, and I’ll rest peacefully. You’re just a fucking kid. You’re nobody.”

The smoke was starting to make its way under the office door, and Darcy couldn’t help but smile.

That was her cue.

“A kid that managed to break into this fucking fortress and burn it down,” Darcy pursed her lips in amusement. “All the money in the world and you can’t even hire decent security, huh? Hm, bet you thought you were in the clear.”

The pull of a trigger was too familiar to her now. 

She could already feel the heat off the door, but she was thankfully close to an exit. Wrapping her sweater around her hand so she could turn the knob, she avoided the pooling blood and pulled.

An anonymous phone call to the FBI detailed a location and a report of a house fire. Sure, the investigators would call the electrical fire foul play, if they couldn’t make out the gunshot first. But something about seeing a giant mansion bought with blood money up in flames warmed Darcy’s cold, dead heart as she covered her footsteps in the snow outside. 

One to go.

* * *

**February 2021**

Tonight wasn’t precisely the type of bang she wanted to go out with.

Sure, Bucky had taught her how to defend herself, and yes, she’d probably honed some of those skills over the years, but an up-close flurry of fists was never Darcy’s comfort zone. In planning this whole mission, this karmic to-do list, she’d always played to her strengths: tracking, recon, and near-silent operations (mostly, unless they really pissed her off).

So, of course, the last asshole on the list wasn’t going down without a fight. Or rather, the entire night security team —comprised of eight burly juice heads with slow reactions but massive fists— wasn’t going down without a fight.

One of the guards had even managed a cheap shot to her jaw, bastard.

Dragging her knuckles across her lower lip, she wiped the pooling copper onto the floor in graceful spatters. A wound across her shoulder pinched as she soldiered forward— a stray bullet graze. But all of her would-be attackers were gone now. And quite fucking frankly, Darcy didn’t feel bad spilling blood all over the white marble floors.

This was Hydra’s nicest safe house, and, like the last name crossed off the list, she wasn’t about to leave it intact for the next rat to scurry into.

But first, she had to take care of her mark. 

He’d been good —the best, in fact— and managed to evade her for the past year and a half. She’d always been about three steps behind him in this fucked up chess game she’d constructed, but now this was the last play to tip the scales to neutral. In those early days, she wondered if it was because he was just that skilled.

But almost two years in, she knew he was hard to find because he was just that _scared_.

He didn’t have a family, a wife, or kids. When he died, that was it, his line was up. No one would live on in his memory, no one fucking deserved to. The man who trained the guards that went into preserving the Winter Soldier for 30 years of the program didn’t deserve to have some grand legacy, after all. Darcy wished no one would remember his name.

She sure wouldn’t.

Her last mark was sitting in his basement’s media room, leaned back in the plush leather armchair with both arms outstretched across the back cushions. The pinnacle of ease. Empty hands, open palms, and the same stupid fucking expression on his face he’d had in the photo pasted into the journal.

“He got dusted, didn’t he?” his tone was mocking, accusatory and set Darcy’s blood boiling. “It would be him here if he was still around.”

She resisted the urge to step forward and tear him a new one. She had a feeling this one had a mouth on him. One that would probably be the death of him.

“You don’t get to fucking talk about him.”

His smirk widened, “So you’re the groupie? Oh yes, you’ve been mentioned in our circles. Have a thing for broken men?”

“Have a thing for getting dead? Because you’re well on your way,” Darcy snarled, surging forward to curl her fist in his collar. She tugged his face right up to her, giving him a good last look before she shoved him back into his seat. 

He just looked amused, like the prey who’d caught the predator in a tight spot. But it was all bravado, all a show. 

It was the same thing he’d built his whole career on. Weakening the beast just enough so it wouldn’t rip his throat out, like everything else the team would sick him on. He was kidding himself if he thought any of his men could have taken out the Winter Soldier without Hydra’s shoddy attempt at mind control.

“What are you here for? The money’s in the vault, it’s already open. The docs are on the computer that’s still unlocked. And my men are already dead,” he said airily. “Why aren’t I? You think I’m going to learn some sort of lesson.”

It was Darcy’s turn to smirk.

“Oh, I don’t expect you to learn anything asshole,” she said, matching his tone. “I just want the satisfaction of pulling the trigger.”

“And you think you’re better than me?”

His eyes flickered, and she knew she’d gotten to him. She could see the sweat beading in his hairline, the wild expression flickering behind his eyes. The pulsing of the vein in his neck. His hands were fully clenched now, ease melted away at the thought of not talking himself out of this one.

“I think I’m doing the world a favour,” she gritted out. “It’s a better place without you in it.”

“And what about you?”

Sorry, asshole, but Darcy had enough self-loathing to last a lifetime. This guy wasn’t about to make a dent in her self-esteem. Especially when he was about to be on the other end of a barrel.

“Oh, there’s no hope for me,” she admitted to him.

But mostly to herself.

Finished with her games, Darcy pressed the muzzle of Bucky’s gun against the back of the asshole’s head and whispered in his ear. 

“Save me a good spot in hell.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter we see some familiar faces. Any bets on who or where?


	4. Fairburn, GA

**February 2022**

It was cold the morning Darcy Lewis stood on the cabin’s front porch, just staring at the door. 

Her teeth chattered, not from the temperature, but from the nerves vibrating through her. She’d done scarier things, faced more dangerous people, but somehow this was much more intimidating than pressing the barrel of a gun to the back of someone’s head. Or the inverse, really.

Six months ago, she never would have pictured herself crawling to someone else for help. Back then, the only logical ending to this redemption arc was her dying in pursuit of it or putting herself out of her misery. Neither were comforting, but both were genuine possibilities at points throughout her journey.

But she was tired and cowardly.

And she couldn’t bring herself to let either come to pass.

The anger stage in her grief lasted a lot longer than she intended. Was a little more violent than she intended. And in the end, what good had it really done anyone? It didn’t bring Bucky back, and it didn’t make her feel any better. Every one of her marks had been carefully planned, assessed and weighed. But this? 

With the mission over and no marks left to cross off a list, this was a shot in the dark.

Darcy Lewis was lost, and she was looking for someone, anyone to be her lighthouse. A safe shore to put herself back together, maybe find herself again. Maybe this was her form of bargaining, trading one crutch for another. And maybe this was the wrong tree to be barking up, but she had to try.

And while she hadn’t thought much about the consequences of these particular actions, she silently weighed the odds of how this would go.

Her best bet was if Pepper opened the door, they’d always had a connection, especially after the Snap. Pepper Potts was a bulldog in a poodle suit, always willing to fight for what was right (and looking damn good doing it). In the 21 days it took for Tony to return, they bonded over their fair share of 2 AM tequila at the compound, commiserating over lost loves.

And then Tony returned, and she hadn’t seen much of her since. 

Darcy knew they married in a very private ceremony (Steve had even set aside their grudge to attend that). They were now in the middle of nowhere in a cabin (Seriously, who would have thought tech giant Tony Stark would end up in a cabin?). But from the tricycle near the front steps and the sidewalk chalk on the driveway, she started to think there was a lot more to the story.

Her fist hovered in front of the door in hesitation.

Darcy’s worst odds would be if Tony Stark opened that door. She was pretty sure he never actually learned her name, calling her a range of things from Lucy to Betty, short stack to kid. He must have asked her at least a hundred times who she was, and why she was there anytime they ran into each other at the Tower.

And now, here Darcy was. Her job was done, all her other bridges were burned, and she didn’t know what to do with herself anymore.

Three raps on the door were met with a long beat of silence.

Maybe they weren’t home. Maybe she had the wrong address. Maybe Tony was off saving the world somewhere. A series of what-ifs floated through her brain, trying to drown out the echoing thump in her chest and ears.

And then it was just those brown eyes staring back at her. So familiar. Older now, more lines and creases, but brighter too.

“Darcy Lewis,” he said in awe, taking all the breath from her chest in four syllables. “As I live and breathe.”

She could have cried. For all she knew, she was crying. Darcy couldn’t feel her face or her tongue as she stared back at him, slack-jawed. Unable to tell him the myriad of reasons she came here and nowhere else. 

Sensing her distress —and probably uncomfortable with it— he hooked an arm around her shoulders, “Come in, Darcy. It’s cold out there, and you’re not dressed for this weather. Where did you come from, Reno?”

“Austin,” she replied automatically as if it mattered.

“What I wouldn’t give for some half-decent Tex Mex,” Tony muttered as he guided her to the couch.

He grabbed her bag out of her limp hold and laid a blanket across her shoulders to supplement her not-so-winter-friendly wardrobe. Sitting in an armchair across the coffee table, there was only a beat of silence before the house echoed with sound.

“Tony? Who was it?” Pepper’s voice rang out, punctuated by a storm of tiny feet.

“A friend,” Tony called back, eyes not leaving Darcy.

He watched her like he was expecting her to break. It wouldn’t have been a bad bet to make.

“A friend? I didn’t realize you still had tho--” Pepper’s voice was a lot closer now, and the footsteps stopped long enough for Darcy to realize she was right behind her. “Darcy?”

She was scared to turn her head, afraid her expression would give everything away. Pepper was already so good at reading people, and Darcy didn’t need her to know everything before she had the chance to process it herself. A year of living in her own head, and she was no closer to figuring this out.

Who she was now. What she wanted. What she needed to do.

Before Darcy could address Pepper, she felt a tugging on her cardigan, and she looked down to find a pair of saucer eyes staring back at her. A mess of brown hair, a smear of what looked like jam across her cheek, the girl’s lower lip wobbled as she squeaked out a, “Hi.”

Hands anchored in her lap, Darcy’s eyes darted between Tony and the tiny girl in front of her. 

She was afraid to touch her, afraid her hands were dirty, or that she’d accidentally hurt her. But mostly that she just wasn’t _good_ enough right now to reach out to someone that innocent, that pure.

“Morgan, honey, that’s Darcy,” Tony explained in a voice Darcy had never heard from him before. “She’s a friend of mommy and daddy’s.”

“Is Darcy sad?”

Darcy swiped her fingertips against her cheeks and realized she was crying, 

“Happy tears,” Darcy managed to croak. “I’m very happy to meet you, Morgan.”

Attention long gone, Morgan scampered off into the next room, wobbling slightly with each step. Pepper was still as a statue in the kitchen, gaping at Darcy like she’d grown two heads.

“Hi Pep,” Darcy offered lamely, finally turning around to look at her.

Pepper was beside her on the couch in the next heartbeat, drawing the blanket around Darcy like it was a lifeline. 

“Are you OK? Honey, where have you been?”

A humourless laugh left Darcy’s lips, “All over. Everywhere and nowhere.”

Pepper just stared at her in silence, and Darcy could see the cogs whirring behind her eyes as she tried to put together her next question.

Tony huffed impatiently in the corner, “I guess I’ll be the bad guy and ask how she found us?”

A lump formed in Darcy’s throat, the familiar buzz of embarrassment and shame washing over her. She shouldn’t be here, she shouldn’t put this on them. This was _her_ issue that she’d fought hard to keep to herself, so she should be the one to solve it.

“I’m sorry,” Darcy offered, making to get up. “You’re right, thi-this is too much. I’m intruding, I shouldn’t be here. I have no right to be here, not after...”

But Pepper was just as quick to set her back down with a firm hand on her shoulder and a choice glance at Tony, “That’s not what he said or meant, Darcy. I’m glad you found us. Please, sit down.”

Staring at her fidgeting fingers, Darcy struggled to put the words together. The ones she’d practiced over and over for the past few months, every time she questioned whether she should even do this. Whether she should reach out. Whether she could let go of the guilt.

“I-I don’t know what you’ve heard about me since… since you left the Compound,” Darcy started carefully, looking between the two for some kind of indication.

Tony looked down on the floor, and she’d know that look anywhere. It was borrowed from Barton and Sam, the pity and the guilt at not stopping her, but Pepper looked confused.

“I just knew you were missing,” Pepper said quietly. “But it sounds like there’s more to that story.”

“A lot more,” Tony chimed in ominously. “But I don’t know how much we can say with little ears around.”

As if on cue, a rush of little footsteps wandered the hall of the main floor, a giggle and a smash of toys following. Darcy watched Pepper’s hands tug the blanket tighter still, smoothing out Darcy’s hair and gauging her expression.

It felt like they’d done this before, with someone else. Maybe themselves. Maybe each other, but it seemed instinctive to Pepper, to reach out and comfort. Was that what motherhood did? Pepper was a parent now, and Tony was a father.

It was such an abstract concept that her brain hadn’t fully processed that these two were living here, they had their own life outside of the superhero bullshit, and she had just stomped in and dumped all her problems in their lap.

“Hey,” Tony called out in a calm tone. “There’s no judgement here, kid. I heard what I heard, but I didn’t hear it from you. You’re always welcome here.”

Darcy nodded numbly, “I don’t want to hide anything from anyone anymore. I just— I don’t know where to go.”

Pepper patted her hand, “We’ve got lots of time for that. Stay with us as long as you need to, OK?” She looked to Tony for reassurance.

He cleared his throat, leaning forward in his seat to look her in the eye. Darcy assumed the worst; she hadn’t seen Tony this serious since he’d stepped off a spaceship in the middle of the night, half-dead and barely able to stand independently. 

“I’m sorry about Barnes,” he offered quietly. “I don’t think I had a chance to say that when I got back, but I am.”

Darcy had heard the sentiment so much that, at this point, they were just words. But from Tony, they meant _something_. Something she couldn’t reciprocate with a thank you—something that made her throat tight if she thought about it too long.

“She’s beautiful, by the way… Morgan,” Darcy offered quietly. “She looks just like you two.”

“She’s all Tony,” Pepper shot back with a soft smile. “He’s already got her tinkering.”

Tony looked proud at that one. But it wasn’t long until they were back to that uncomfortable silence now, the pitiful stares.

“Are you hungry? I was just about to make lunch,” Pepper swept in with a save, busying herself with the cupboards and fridge before Darcy could even get an answer out.

Pepper talked about everything and nothing. How Morgan had decided to cut her own hair the week before. How she kept catching Tony inventing in the shed. How much she missed Manhattan and their favourite coffee spots. It was comforting, the lack of silence. It kept Darcy out of her head long enough to feel like a functioning human being for once over a plate of chips and a sandwich cut corner-to-corner.

Morgan calling her for mom drew Pepper to the back of the house, leaving Tony and Darcy alone in the front room.

“So, where have you really been, kid?”

Darcy had been expecting the question, but it didn’t make it easier to answer.

“All over. Texas, Nevada, Oregon, Wisconsin, a bunch in between. Post-snap made travel hard, even for the rich assholes, so it was like shooting fish in a barrel,” she replied in a low voice, probably too quickly.

Tony was having a hard time looking her in the eye, and she wasn’t sure if it was fatherly disappointment or just reality setting in. She wasn’t a good person, he’d realize that soon, and she’d be on her merry way trying to bark up the next tree.

“How did you survive out there? Money? Food? Shelter?”

“I took odd jobs around towns. Sometimes I’d be there for months,” she admitted. “Bartending, fast food. Motels. Offices. No one asks too many questions at mom and pop shops. I had ID on me anyway.”

“Barnes set you up,” Tony realized aloud, looking disappointed in himself for not thinking of it sooner.

“Yeah, just in case we ever had to cut and run. Never thought _this_ would be why I did,” she said with a watery chuckle.

She was grateful he didn’t ask her why she didn’t come sooner, why she pushed them away and why she didn’t ask for help. Darcy wouldn’t have had an answer to those questions anyway.

Tony looked a little more serious now, finally meeting her eyes. 

“Are you done?”

Stormy eyes locked on his brown, she swore, “I’m done.”

He hummed in acknowledgement as Darcy picked at the sandwich crusts on her plate. 

Maybe he could understand where she was coming from —not the fatherly part of him, but the angry teenager that was always there after his parents’ death. After Steve’s betrayal of trust. After losing Peter.

“Listen, I know you could just up and leave in the middle of the night, but I want you to stay,” Tony said as Darcy raised her brows. “I’m serious, probably the most serious I’ve ever been with you.”

As much as she knew this might back-fire and he could find out, _really_ find out, about everything she’d been doing the past two years, Darcy wasn’t about to turn down the only help she had right now.

“I’m not going anywhere, Tony.”

He looked relieved, “Good, because if word spreads that I actually have a heart, the world will never look at me the same, and I just can’t take that.”

Darcy almost cracked a smile at that one.

“Your secret’s safe with me.”

* * *

**July 2019**

It was 12:01 AM when Darcy slipped out of her bed, pulling a backpack from the ground that was ready to go. She dropped her cell phone on the desk face down. She flicked the light off in her room as she closed the door behind her. There was no longing last glance at the place she’d lived in for the previous year. There was no sentiment. There would be no nostalgia.

Most of the team was out on an extended mission; the rest were sleeping. Halls empty and unlit save for the motion sensors springing with every footstep. 

By the time FRIDAY alerted them that anything was amiss, she’d be long gone.

It was a bit of a hike through the dark woods to her pick-up point. Burner phone in hand, she called a cab to a spot in the next town over and trudged the path she’d been practicing for the last few months. Night walks had kind of become a thing of hers, a handy cover that would buy her some extra time to disappear before anyone realized she wasn’t coming back.

Thirty minutes later, she was on an unlit residential street, waiting at the end of the driveway that wasn’t hers. She flagged down the cabbie, who turned on the overhead light for her.

“Where you headed?” he asked.

“The train station, please.”

His eyes flicked to the rear-view mirror to catch hers, eyeing her single backpack and not much else on her. Darcy hoped he wasn’t the type of draw out long conversations but wasn’t that lucky.

“Long trip?”

She sighed, “Long time coming.”

* * *

**April 2022**

It was two months after she arrived at the cabin when they had their first visitor. She didn’t knock, and Darcy was pretty sure she didn’t have a key, but neither Pepper nor Tony looked surprised at the redhead strolling through the front door. Darcy, however, was looking in between her eyes down the barrel of a handgun she’d hidden in the kitchen, poised and ready to fire on the intruder.

“Auntie Nat!”

With a screech and a giggle, Morgan flung herself at the spy, whose eyes hadn’t left a very exhausted Darcy Lewis hunched over her weapon. 

Tony gently covered her shaking hands with his own, tilting the gun back down to the floor before he whispered in Darcy’s ear, “Kid, she’s a friendly. You can drop the guard dog act.”

Darcy was able to re-hide the weapon before the little one could turn around and realize what had just happened. She didn’t miss the panic in Pepper’s face. Darcy wished she could melt into the floor, not believing she could have put Morgan in danger like that.

White knuckles clutched the kitchen island, digging into Darcy’s palm as she tried to steady herself. Wanted to remind herself that she wasn’t the same girl she was a few months ago.

She didn’t know who she was anymore if she was honest.

Natasha simply snapped to attention at Morgan’s squeals, a grin stretching across her face as she tossed the girl in the air and set her on her hip like nothing had happened. And Darcy, flaming red in embarrassment, was happy to be ignored, for the time being, trying to simultaneously still her nerves and prepare herself for the tongue lashing she was about to receive.

“You taking in strays now?” Nat asked Tony airily as Morgan giggled in her arms.

His reply was just as crisp, “Well, you’re here, so, I think you know the answer to that.”

Pepper scooped up Morgan for a post-breakfast bath —maple syrup was a pain to get out— and an excuse to catch her breath after the scare, while the rest of the adults stared at each other for a beat.

Tony broke first, pouring Natasha a coffee cup as the spy made a break for the kitchen cupboards. A moment later, she pulled a mickey of whisky from behind a door atop the fridge. Darcy briefly wondered how she’d never come across it before, or rather, how it’d escaped Pepper for so long. Natasha tipped a shot into her mug before doing the same to Tony and Darcy’s.

“I’m glad you haven’t lost your instincts,” Natasha drawled with Darcy’s glance, green eyes shooting straight through her. “Though, next time, you shouldn’t hesitate to pull the trigger.”

“Never been a problem before,” Darcy shot back as Natasha’s lips twitched.

Tony muttered a “Jesus Christ, she’s all Barnes,” under his breath and sipped his coffee as the two women stared each other down.

Darcy was sure Natasha wasn’t going to be the first to crack, but it wasn’t the first time she’d misread the spy. Likely wouldn’t be the last.

“You did a pretty decent job of staying off the radar, all things considered,” Nat murmured, and that was the greatest compliment she could have offered Darcy. “But you have to admit, it was pretty foolish of you to do that.”

She knew Natasha meant more than just the deadly welcome wagon she’d nearly unloaded this morning. And Darcy had spent a lot of time thinking about her actions over the past few weeks.

“It’s done now,” Darcy said plainly.

“Tony!”

Pepper’s voice rang out from upstairs, a cranky Morgan squealing for her dad as Tony set his mug down and followed the noise. Natasha looked a little more relaxed now, slumped down on her elbows to hunch over the kitchen island. 

“How much does Tony know?” Nat asked quietly once he was out of earshot.

“Most of it.”

It was the truth. They’d spent a lot of late nights looking for any loose threads that Darcy might have left behind in her wake. Quietly altering police files and casework to make sure it could never be traced back.

“So, what now?” Nat asked. “You going to be a live-in nanny forever?”

“Only 15 more years until college,” Darcy joked evasively, wincing at the sip of coffee that verged on pure whisky. “I have some time to figure things out.”

Darcy hoisted herself onto the counter, settling in for Natasha’s extended conversation. The one the spy was clearly itching to have. As far as Avengers delegates went, she wasn’t the worst option. In fact, she had experience doing this for Barton if Darcy’s hunch was correct.

“Don’t you want to live your own life?” she asked over the lip of her mug.

Darcy snorted, “I tried that, got a little revenge happy.”

“You could always come back to the Compound, help us out.”

Darcy tapped her fingernails against the mug, biting her lips as she thought about the nicest way to phrase ‘fuck no.’

“Do _you_ even know what you’re doing anymore, Nat?” Darcy asked, catching those big green eyes looking surprised for all of a millisecond. She hadn’t called her that in a long time, hadn’t felt close enough to do it for years, but if they were frank with each other, there was no need for formalities.

“No,” the redhead admitted quietly. “Most days I don’t.”

“Then you know why I can’t do that.”

Natasha nodded, and the room dissolved into silence, save the muffled disagreement happening over bath time upstairs. 

“Are you going to ask me how Steve and Clint are or are you going to continue to pretend you don’t care?” Natasha finally said.

“I don’t deserve an answer.”

Natasha chuckled, “They’d say otherwise. I’m still not sure what you have against Steve.”

Darcy raised an eyebrow, “It was too hard looking at him. Seeing him walking around every day, watching him pick me up off the bathroom floor every time life got too hard. He took me on as _his_ problem, his burden, for Bucky. And I hated it.”

“And that’s why you left?”

There was a lot more to it than that—a sense of duty, a longing for purpose. Not wanting to be a waste of space any longer than she had been. Bucky had given her these tools, taught her these skills, and she wanted to honour that somehow.

Maybe it wasn’t the best way, but it was the only way she knew how.

“I didn’t really fit in anywhere. I felt like I was just a barnacle hanging on for dear life,” Darcy murmured. “I wasn’t super, I wasn’t skilled. I was just Darcy, and just Darcy didn’t do a whole lot of good without Bucky Barnes around.”

“And now?” Natasha asked, quieter still. “Do you feel better now? Did it give you closure?”

“No,” Darcy said. “But I knew that after the first kill. It didn’t get me anything but a whole lot of burned bridges.”

Natasha scoffed and set down her mug, “You can’t believe that.”

“ _I_ can’t even look at myself the same way, how do I expect them to?”

Her whisky sloshed out of the coffee mug in her shaking grasp, throat tight with emotion. Darcy couldn’t expect forgiveness, not with what she had done.

“That sounds like a you problem, not a them problem,” Natasha said like it was the simplest concept in the world.

It probably was.

“Why are you here?” Darcy asked though she’d been wondering it the entire time.

“I care,” Natasha replied. “And I’ve been there, so I can tell you that this will be a distant nightmare someday.”

Natasha took the mug out of Darcy’s hands and dumped it out into the sink. Hers was already empty. They’d both had enough.

“I’m not ready to face them,” Darcy admitted.

The spy searched Darcy’s eyes for a moment, clasping her hands on the counter.

“I know, but I’ll be here whenever you need me until you are.” With a nod and grateful smile from Darcy, Natasha continued, “And maybe we’ll work on your reflexes while we’re both here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did anyone have bets on Tony and Pepper’s being the safe haven? Also, I may or may not have been pretty emotional writing out that first scene with Morgan 😭 
> 
> This chapter got a little out of control with the word count (the next one, too), but I just couldn’t stop myself.
> 
> Thank you for all the lovely comments and feedback on this series! You all have been amazing.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tags don't lie. This one might hurt.

**July 2018**

“Stay in the Citadel. I’ll come and get you when this is all over.”

Bucky held Darcy’s face between her hands, swearing to her with those steel grey eyes locked on hers. The sounds of the troops rallying and the rush of aides assembling weaponry and equipment was all that filled her ears. His hands were shaking among the commotion, but she tried to push back the worry to leave him with a brave face.

“I love you,” Darcy said, voice trembling.

She knew the stakes. She wished she didn’t.

Steve was just outside the door, pretending he couldn’t hear everything within a half-mile radius, just waiting to rush to the front lines with his partner. But Darcy didn’t mind; she’d already given Steve a stern talking to, making him swear to bring her man (and himself) back to her in one piece.

It wasn’t fair of her to demand that of him, but nothing was fair about today— especially not with Bucky being ripped from her grasp for another battle.

“I love you too, doll. But I’ll be right back, I promise.”

Bucky kissed her like the first time. No hesitation, no-frills. Just pure need and want, love and longing. She held onto every second of it, glossy eyes and all, trying desperately to burn it into her memory. The lines at the corners of his eyes, his half-hearted smile, the way her fingers sunk into his hair, even his new arm. Every detail catalogued and put away… just in case.

Darcy waited until he was clear of the room before letting the tears slip down her face.

The effort was frenetic, a hail Mary at best, and they all knew that going in. Even the King of Wakanda himself had that same nervousness behind his expression, knowing that this enemy was unlike anything they’d faced before.

It was hard not to hear the explosions and feel the rattles of the castle around them. Darcy waited in a panic room deep inside the palace until the silence set in. When she turned around and realized half the staff who’d been tucked away with her were no longer there. 

Then the calls for missing teammates rang out through the air. Then the tears came.

When Steve came back to the Citadel empty-handed, she knew it was over. Everything within arms reach was hurled across the room at the Captain who didn’t have a team to lead anymore, didn’t have a best friend, and couldn’t keep a promise.

They all made oaths they couldn’t keep that day. 

And all that rage made its home in Darcy that day, festering and eating away at her until she couldn’t stand it. Until she there was nothing left of the Darcy Lewis that had first stepped foot in their little hut. It was the day Wakanda stopped feeling like home.

And the day she swore she’d never find home again.

* * *

**October 2023**

It’d been a year and a half since Darcy Lewis landed on Tony and Pepper’s front porch, and not a lot had changed. Sure, Morgan had grown like a weed, and Tony’s tinkering meant the appliances got an upgrade every few months when he was bored. But otherwise, the only change when it came to Darcy was a new title.

She had officially become ‘Auntie Darcy,’ maker of waffles and baker of sweets for the munchkin. Occasional personal assistant to Pepper. Darcy did what she always did: she filled someone else’s gap instead of addressing her own, valuing her usefulness over her own fulfilment. But it felt right in the moment, and after the list, she was afraid to be on her own, let her mind have a moment’s peace.

Probably for a good reason.

Nat visited monthly, but she was the cabin’s only visitor, which Darcy was almost grateful for. She had a life here, a makeshift family, and while it wasn’t what she’d pictured herself doing with her life, it was worth waking up for every morning— she didn’t always have that.

“Morgan? Where’s your dad?”

The girl looked a little bewildered as the front door closed behind her, “People are here.”

“People?” Darcy’s eyes narrowed, darting to the spot she’d hidden her gun and her spare pack of cigarettes (well out of reach of tiny hands). “Go find your mom, OK? I think she’s in her room.”

Morgan nodded, bounding up the stairs as Darcy carefully peeked past the curtains. It was a welcome wagon, alright. One that was a little too familiar. She let out a quiet sigh of relief as she spotted Steve and Nat standing shoulder-to-shoulder talking to Tony. Not that seeing Steve was particularly comforting to her —they still hadn’t spoken since she’d left the Compound— but at least they weren’t intruders.

And at least she wouldn’t have to reach for her gun.

They had an addition, though. One that made no sense at all. 

Darcy only knew who Scott Lang was because of all the post-Snap research Natasha and the team had gone through. He was gone and dusted or was supposed to be. How the hell was he waltzing onto Tony’s property in the middle of nowhere?

And why?

Darcy could only make out bits and pieces through the door, still debating whether to take the plunge into view. 

“And now you wanna pull off a... What do you call it?”

“A time heist?” Scott said, sounding a little unsure.

“Yeah, a time heist. Of course, why didn’t we think of this before? Oh, because it’s laughable? Because it’s a pipe dream?” Tony scoffed, arms folded across his chest as he all but rolled his eyes at them.

“The Stones are in the past. We can go back and get them.”

Sure, she couldn’t make sense of the discussion of a Quantum Realm or physics. But as soon as they started talking about a plan to reverse the damage done, she couldn’t stop herself from yanking on the door handle and coming face to face with a perplexed group of Avengers.

She was hoping to skip over the awkward introductions part of the conversation. 

Steve’s blue eyes were suddenly saucers as he took her in, shooting a small nod in her direction, but Darcy’s eyes were glued to Tony’s. Not that she couldn’t feel the group’s stared burning holes into the side of her face. 

But Natasha didn’t miss a beat, and it seemed like she was talking straight to Darcy as she added, “We can snap our own fingers. We can bring everyone back.”

“We could bring everyone back?” Darcy asked, cutting in.

Tony was just as defensive as ever, “We might just screw it up worse—“

But Darcy wasn’t about to let this go; this was a chance. The chance they’d been waiting for, and if they didn’t take this risk, no one would.

“You wouldn’t even try? If there was a one percent chance it would work, you’re telling me you wouldn’t?” she pressed, hands in fists as she tried not to let the shakes show through her firm tone. “If you were in my shoes, in any of our shoes, if Pepper had turned to dust… you still wouldn’t?”

Darcy usually wasn’t one to use her personal sob story as cannon fodder, and it had been a long time since she’d let out the anger that bubbled beneath the surface of her skin since the Snap, but this was important.

Tony looked defeated at that, shoulders slouching as pity seeped into his expression.

He started on his best fatherly spiel, “I understand you’re in pain, I understand you’re hurt.”

Still in her casual clothes, without a brush through her hair or a lick of makeup, she squared her shoulders and let him have it. “Do you? Or are you just taking pity on me because it’s the easiest way to feel better about the fact that you’ve had your idyllic little life the past five years?” Darcy spat. 

It wasn’t fair or nice of her to take this out on him. Darcy knew that. But she also knew if anyone on earth could pull this off, it was Tony goddamn Stark. That’s all they were asking for him to _try_. And if it took a little verbal sparring to get him going, it was probably the best cause she’d ever used her anger for.

“I’m sorry, Tony. Thank you for giving me a home here, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to say what everyone else is thinking.”

Some footsteps and the creak snapped the group’s attention to the door, as little Morgan Stark flung herself into her dad’s arms. The group went rigid, like a twist of the knife as her arms wrapped around his neck, and he cradled her.

“Mommy told me to come and save you.”

“Good job. I’m saved,” Tony said unconvincingly, ruffling her hair before turning to the others. “If you don’t talk shop, you can stay for lunch,” he added, slipping both of them through the front door out of sight.

None of the group was about to take him up on that offer, most of them cutting their losses and walking back towards the car in the driveway. Darcy was too busy catching her breath, perched on the porch bannister and staring out towards the property.

“Darcy—” Steve started, and she could hear the hesitant steps of him walking towards her.

She folded her arms across her chest defensively, eyes glued just over his shoulder. Nat was already in the driver’s seat, but Scott gave a bashful smile and a little wave as she caught him staring at the two. Truth was, she didn’t have it in her to look Steve in the eyes at the moment, even though it’d been years since their last meeting.

Those blues reminded her too much of what she’d lost. And with even a fucking sliver of hope she’d hang onto for dear life with today’s visit, she couldn’t afford to sink any lower into this pit she’d dug for herself.

Steve stopped in his tracks, palms out in surrender. “Thank you,” he said simply. “For backing us up. I’m sorry I haven’t reached out. I, uh, wasn’t sure you’d forgiven me.”

It was Darcy’s turn to be shocked, eyes huge as she stared at him.

“Forgiven _you_?” Darcy replied incredulously.

“For suffocating you,” Steve added quietly. “For not bringing Buck back with me in Wakanda. For getting him into it in this first place. For this whole mess.”

She’d had a lot of time to think about this over the years, about why she resented Steve so much. About what she was _really_ angry about those first few years. And while she hadn’t quite forgiven _herself_ , she’d known for a long time that Steve had never been the bad guy.

She’d been running from her grief, angry and lashing out, and that wasn’t his fault.

Darcy shook her head, “This isn’t on you. Well, maybe the first part was… but I should be the one to apologize.”

He huffed a humourless laugh, “You don’t owe me anything. I just wish I could have made it better, easier somehow.”

She didn’t know what to say to that, shoving her hands into her pockets as she finally met his gaze. 

And as much as she wasn’t ready to throw herself in his arms and pretend like everything was alright again, it would be stupid of her to sit back and not try and help in whatever way she could. Even if that meant a little Tony Stark manipulation —which, really, had been her specialty since she joined SHIELD.

“I’ll work on him,” she said finally, nudging her head towards the door.

Steve smiled, and it almost reached his eyes, “Then it’s a sure thing.”

She slipped back into the house, heart still racing as she set out to find Morgan. It was hard to keep her mind on tea parties and tinkering, but Darcy tried her best to get through the day without pushing.

The chat seemed to weigh heavily on Tony, his mind adrift all through dinner, like he was puzzling it out in his head. And that night, it was like she was back in Avengers Tower, silently feeding him mug after mug of coffee, well into the morning hours as he ran FRIDAY through every scenario he could think of. Desperate to find a solution.

Midnight passed, then 2 AM.

She’d been slumped across the kitchen island, resting her eyes when it clicked, and FRIDAY spoke the words that had the potential to save lives.

“ _Model rendered._ ”

Her head shot up from the countertop, eyes wide as she looked to Tony for confirmation. He silently nodded his head, just as shocked as she was. She could have kissed him, but they settled on a firm hug (well, more of a squeeze from Darcy), trying not to leak tears all over his sweater. Somehow she managed to rest after that, her bed feeling more comfortable, and sleep coming a little easier than usual.

The following morning —only a few hours later, technically— she woke to a knock at her door and found Tony Stark with a suitcase and a smile.

“I’m heading out to go work on this thing. Hopefully, they haven’t managed to turn anyone into a toddler yet,” Tony said, not quite meeting her gaze. “But, uh, this is for you.”

He handed her a plain, slim box that fit in her hand, no wrapping or frills.

“What is this?” Darcy asked as she took it, brows furrowed.

“New phone, old number,” Tony said airily. “A little birdy told me you ditched yours a while ago, and if all goes well, you’ll probably have a couple of calls to answer.”

Darcy threw her arms around him, kissing him on the cheek in thanks. His arms wound around her for once, returning the hug. 

A deep breath sounded in her ears, and she wondered if she’d ever seen Tony Stark wear this much emotion. Pulling back, she slid her hands down to his biceps, taking a good look at the bags and wrinkles, red eyes and ruffled hair. 

“You take care of my girls, OK?” Tony said, hiding his shaky voice behind a cough.

She gripped his shoulder, “Always.”

* * *

Four days later, Pepper got the call to head to Wakanda, and Darcy helped her find the Rescue suit in the shed. They’d gotten periodic updates on their technical progress throughout the week, but otherwise, it had been business as usual at the cabin. Until now.

Something had changed.

Pepper was in a flurry, rattling off contact details, emergency numbers, protocols, should the worst happen. Darcy picked up her keys just before she was about to frantically look for them, pressing them into Pepper’s palm as the CEO shot her a grateful look.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Pepper sighed, looking a little more at ease. “Happy should be here any minute, and he’ll stay with you two. I’m sorry to put this on you, but—“

“Pepper, you took me in after everything I did. You brought me into your family,” Darcy said softly, assuredly. “This is the least I can do. You go kick some ass and bring everyone back, OK?”

Pepper nodded, pulling Darcy into a rib-crushing hug before she wiped at her eyes. 

It was almost a relief Pepper hadn’t asked her to come with; Darcy was hesitant to be on-site. Not because she didn’t want to witness any aftermath —if Pepper was bringing her suit, that meant they were expecting a fight— but because she was afraid it wouldn’t work. 

And that would almost hurt worse.

So, she tried to spend the afternoon playing games with Morgan, scrounging up lunch and then supper. But it was the unfamiliar ringtone that cut into their evening and forced all of the air out of Darcy’s chest. She couldn’t believe the caller ID flashing on the screen. 

It had been five years since she’d seen those ten digits in succession. She couldn’t even form words as she accepted the call and pressed it to her ear.

“Darcy?”

Tears sprung to her eyes as she choked a sob into the phone. She doubled over as she tried to catch the breath that escaped her lungs.

“Mom?” she managed to choke out.

“Sweetie. Darcy, is everything alright? Everyone here is very confused and—”

“You—I… I missed you so much,” Darcy was at a loss trying to explain. “It’s a long story; I’m sure the nice SHIELD people will explain it. Is… is Jane there?”

They had been at the same safe house in Norway, thanks to SHIELD moving quickly before the battle. She could remember Bucky personally insisting her parents get a spot to have all of SHIELD’s potential assets protected, should things go south.

“Yes! Dr. Foster?” the muffled hand-off of the phone and the swell of chatter in the background took over.

Darcy’s heart was in her throat. Was this all a dream? Did she die, and this was purgatory? Or had they really done it?

“Darcy!” Jane was more frantic. “It’s been _five years_?!”

The tears were out in full-force now, streaming down her face.

“Jane. Have they said anything about—?”

“I don’t know how much time I have, Darcy. Natasha… Natasha is gone, I’m really sorry.”

The words hit her light a truck, the ringing in her ears and the fact she had to clutch at the countertop to steady herself. “What? Gone or dead?”

Jane’s voice was muffled now, and Darcy struggled to make out all the words.

“The SHIELD agents won’t tell us much more than that. Apparently, they have a plan, but it’s another battle.”

The bottom dropped out from Darcy’s stomach. She needed to know. This wasn’t a win unless they all came home, and if Natasha was dead, who else was gone already? Who else would leave them?

No, no, she couldn’t be dead.

“Jane, is Natasha missing or is she dead?”

“Dead—Dar-cy—cut—out—“it was almost impossible to make Jane out through all the static and the call disconnected before Darcy could get another word out. It was probably the phone lines being flooded with all the returned people confused and scared.

It was like she was right back to the day of the Snap at that moment.

Her thoughts were swirling as she stared up at Happy, looking bewildered at the conversation he’d definitely been listening in on. Darcy’s phone fell to the counter as she lost the feeling in her hand. A distant sounding drip tracked down to the granite below, tears slipping off of Darcy’s face without much notice.

“He did it,” she breathed to Happy’s unasked question. “But there’s still one last fight.”

The silence that followed was a little eerie, but neither Darcy nor Happy could find anything to say. The room was a ball of nervous energy, neither of them wanting to bring up the fact that this could fail again.

It could all go wrong, and they’d end up right back where they started. Or worse.

Darcy wasn’t about to kid herself here. This wasn’t over for her until Tony, and James Buchanan Barnes stepped through that front door. And even if they did, would it have been worth it? To lose a friend, a teammate, a _mentor_ along the way?

Nat.

And she’d already lost one of her friends. Now all they could do was wait. 

The only way Darcy could distract herself was to lay a blanket over a napping Morgan, curled up on the living room couch, oblivious to the world. She hunkered down beside her, absentmindedly running her fingers through her hair as she stared blankly at the wall. Happy sat across from them, in the chair Tony had sat in that first night of hers at the cabin.

She wouldn’t freak out, not before the dust had settled, she decided. 

A sudden flash of light against the wall made Darcy’s head snap around. Through the window, she could see a portal appear in the yard. Darcy didn’t even put real shoes on, rushing over in her slippers as she tried not to jostle the kid out of sleep.

“Happy, stay here with Morgan,” she ordered before flinging open the door.

Every last thought dropped out of her head at the dusted and broken expression on Pepper Potts’s face as she stepped through a ring of light. Alone. She _knew_. She knew from the look on her face. The one that screamed strength when all she wanted to do was curl up in a ball and hide from the world. 

It was like the ground beneath of feet rocked, stomach dropping at the quiver of her lip, the tear tracks on her face. Every step towards her felt like three like Darcy was moving through sand.

“Pepper…” it was all she could think to saw as they both stared at each other with misty eyes. “No.”

Darcy gaped the floating plush red cape holding who she could only assume was Tony at Pepper’s side. It took her a few moments to steady herself as the portal closed behind the two figures. All she could do was collapse in Pepper’s arms, weeping together as Darcy apologized over and over again.

 _She_ had been the one to push him to do it. She pushed Natasha to do it, and she was never coming home either. She had called him a coward. She’d almost shot the spy. 

She had sent them both to their fucking deaths for her own benefit.

Because _she_ was sad and hurt and alone.

And now more were alone, because of her.

Pepper tilted the brunette’s head up and wiped Darcy’s cheeks with her thumbs, giving her a watery smile as she assured her, “He did what he needed to do. He’s at peace. It’s not your fault, Darcy.”

Darcy sniffled, reaching over to put a hand on the cape in reverence, avoiding Pepper’s gaze.

“Natasha?” 

It was the only other thought on her mind, and she watched as Pepper’s lower lip quivered, and she shook her head, unable to say the words out loud.

Darcy felt all the colour leave her face.

“Doctor Strange will be here shortly to help with the arrangements, but I um,” she gulped down her tears as she stared blankly at the cabin. “I need to go tell Morgan and Happy. Watch over him for me?”

She could see how torn Pepper was to leave his side and nodded firmly, “I’ll be here with him.”

Darcy waited until Pepper was out of view before letting out the strangled cry she’d been holding in, clutching the cloak. It must have been the same one Tony had told her about, one of those nights they’d spent drinking away the hours before dawn.

“I’m so sorry, Tony,” she whispered, body shuddering. “You did everything for me when I didn’t deserve it, and I’m the one left standing. I swear to god I’m going to take care of your girls.”

Two more portals popped up side-by-side in front of her, Tony and the cape disappearing into the furthest one as a group stepped out from the other. Blurred vision made it hard to make out faces, and her brain wasn’t processing anything at the moment, even if she had been able to see.

“I’ll take it from here, Miss Lewis,” said someone, who she assumed was Doctor Strange assured softly like he was speaking to someone in shock.

He might have been.

Duty fulfilled, it was like the floodgates burst open. She couldn’t look, turning herself around so he wouldn’t see her face ravaged by grief, shame and tears. Something about Tony leaving her one last time, even in the afterlife, shook her to her core. 

A familiar part of mismatched arms wrapped around her as she fell to her knees at the thought.

“Hey, hey. It’s OK, doll. It’s OK.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry!!! I know, I know, I left you on a bit of a cliffhanger. But, I’m getting this to you a day earlier, and the final chapter will be up next weekend to celebrate.
> 
> Anything you’re hoping to see in the last chapter? I won’t make promises or post any spoilers in the comments, I swear!


	6. Home

**October 2023**

Every fibre of Darcy’s being froze at the sound of that voice. The one she’d only dreamed of the last five years —excluding the odd exhaustion-induced hallucinations.

“Bucky?” she choked out, scrambling to turn and reach for his face.

She mapped his dusty features with his fingertips, smudging brown streaks across his skin, not quite believing this was real. But this was real, right? He was here. Steely gaze darting between her own, it was like he was trying to see through her, looking for all the things that’d changed since he’d seen her last.

It had only been hours for him.

“In the flesh,” he replied, voice torn and eyes glassy as he took her in. “I’m sorry I couldn’t keep my promise. Seems like just yesterday I was makin’ it.”

A breathy laugh-turned-sob escaped her lips at his attempt at a joke, and she swiped playfully at his chest, trying not to break eye contact through the tears, “I missed you so much. Every second of every day, Buck.”

The grin dropped from his face at her tone, and the tears rolling down her cheeks, reading into the implication. His thumbs swiped under her eyes, catching and wiping the nearly-dry trails. 

“I’m sorry I put you through that.”

Bucky pressed a kiss to her forehead, and she melted all over again, fingers burrowing into the fabric of his uniform to make sure he was really there. That he couldn’t leave her again. That this wasn’t just some figment of her grief.

Darcy couldn’t quite remember what happened next, how she got to bed or whether she even greeted all the new and returning faces in and around the cabin. But no matter how hard she looked, she didn’t see that flash of red hair anywhere, and somehow that was the only thing she could feel as she wandered through her fugue state. 

All she could remember was Bucky drawing her into his arms —her long-forgotten safe space— and her body hitting her duvet with a creak of the bedframe. 

It felt like they lay there for hours staring at each other, but it had probably only been minutes. Darcy’s stomach was in knots, heart beating in her ears, just looking at those eyes. That face. Those lips. Every little detail she was cursing herself for forgetting. She had almost forgotten the sound of his voice, the lilt and the hint of Brooklyn. 

He didn’t push her, didn’t pepper her with questions, he just lay there with her and let her take him in. 

Bucky held her hand, absentmindedly rubbing one of her scars, cutting across her knuckles in a white, jagged line. She wondered whether he’d ask about it, or any of the other trinkets she’d collected over the years. There were a lot of them, after all, from those less-than-well-planned ventures into safe houses across the country: bullets and blades, furniture and power tools. 

There were a lot of stories her skin could tell these days.

But no matter how much she tried, she couldn’t bring herself to reach out to Bucky. Darcy was terrified, her anxiety building an invisible wall between them, stacked bricks of every truth she was scared to tell him.

It wasn’t just that she was afraid he’d drift off into the wind again —that image never really left her brain, even after all these years— there was so much more. She was scared to let him see her marks, see how much she’d changed in five years. How much she’d aged. She was older now, and he might never look a day over 28 the rest of his life, for all she knew.

It was like she was right back to those first few months with him in Wakanda, avoiding his gaze. Unsure of what he saw in her that she didn’t. Every single thing she’d ever felt with him, about him, around him all flooded back to her, compounded by the grief and shame. 

And the regret.

She’d have to tell him sooner or later what her last five years had been. And she was terrified that would change the way he’d look at her. So for now, she’d try to soak in the normalcy.

“Where did you go, doll?” Bucky asked softly.

It was a double-edged question if she’d ever heard one. He tucked her hair behind her ears, watching closely as she tried not to flinch at the sudden contact. Darcy didn’t succeed.

His eyes softened at her reflex, “Darce?”

“I’m scared you’re going to hate me,” she said, breath already hitching at the thought of having to unpack this in front of him. Especially when she’d just gotten him back.

“Sweetheart, I could never hate you.”

Who’s to say he would just walk out the door as soon as he realized his girl was a murderer?

The second ticked away as she surveyed him, setting a baseline so she’d know if he reacted in that spy way. The way that made it very difficult to tell disappointed from thrilled.

“I finished your list,” she said, not quite meeting his eyes.

The quiver in her voice gave her away, and the silence that followed made it seem like all the air had been sucked out of the room. The words rang out in her head over and over again.

“What list?” his voice was just a whisper like he hoped he was a misunderstanding.

Head already in a fog, she wished her voice would stop cracking as she clarified, “The one in your notebook.”

“You finished it?”

“Every one.” She reached under her bed, bringing out his gun that she always kept within arms reach and dropping it on the duvet between them. Daring him to say something.

He picked it up, instinctively checking the barrel, but it was unloaded and useless. These days it was just Darcy’s version of a comfort blanket; on those nights she’d wake up scared and wondering where she was.

She expected Bucky to leave, to raise his voice, to get angry, to shut down. Anything that would tell her all the mean and terrible things she’d been saying to herself the past few years. The nights she couldn’t sleep, didn’t deserve to rest. The ones she’d spent avoiding the people she loved because she didn’t deserve to see them after what she’d done.

Darcy would have gotten down on her knees, begging him to tell her how upset at her he was if she’d gotten the chance.

But Bucky barely hesitated as he engulfed her, sweeping her on his lap, side to his chest, as he recited the same mantra over and over, “Darcy, I love you no matter what. You did nothing wrong, baby. I’m here with you now, OK? I’m not going anywhere.”

It took a couple of cycles of his whispers for the words to sink in, when all the tension released from her body and she slumped into him, shuddering. Her breath came in gasps, nails digging into his skin as she held onto whatever she could for dear life. His lips were in her hair, peppering kisses there until her breathing settled. They trailed to the side of her face. Her cheek. Until they were eye to eye, an abstract painting through her tears.

“Jesus Christ, Darce. You had me worried,” he whispered, realizing she was back. He rubbed his hand up and down her bicep, “You did what you had to do, and you’re safe. You’re here with me. I’m back.”

She reached out to touch his face, tracing his cheekbone as she pulled him towards her into an urgent, clumsy kiss. The desperation and the loss, the re-discovery and the love, it was all in there as his hands found her waist and pulled her onto his lap. Her fingers found the hem of his shirt, then the coarse hair on his cheeks, from the dip in his chin to the peaks and valleys of his chest, and hers. He traced the new and old lines on her body, lost in her sight, all of her, as their clothes found the floor. 

And suddenly she was home again.

Sleep came much easier than it ever had that night, even though she’d woken up just to feel for him in the dark. Equal parts terrified he’d disappear on her and disbelieving he was there with her. He was already awake, grey eyes staring back at her in the dim light.

“You’re here,” she whispered, still in awe as she curled up against his bare chest. “Please don’t leave me.”

He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head and held her tight.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

* * *

Most of the extended team gave Pepper, Rhodey, Happy and Morgan space in the coming days. Peter and May stuck around, helping to maintain some sense of normalcy through the chores and keeping the little one occupied. Darcy took to cooking breakfast every morning, helping to coax Pepper out of bed on those harder, first few days.

Bucky was the only reason she’d been able to get out of her own.

He’d caught her reaching for the gun to take out the stranger in her bed a couple of times in those early morning wake-ups. Remnants of a life on the road. Cautiously brushing the hair out of her face, Bucky had reached over and gently pried the unloaded weapon out of her hands. He whispered assurances that everything was alright until he could get her back to sleep again, if only for another hour.

But things were far from alright.

Today was the funeral for two of their friends lost in an effort to bring back so many more. Darcy had spent the first five minutes out of bed staring at the mirror, finicking with her black dress. She was trying to put on her best-composed look. The one she’d been practicing for the last few days before she’d have to inevitably excuse herself to break down in the privacy of her room.

But she wanted nothing more than to vomit, stomach already gurgling at the thought of having to face all those people she’d basically spat on on her way out of the Compound.

Darcy was on door duty and would be welcoming everyone in. It would be a mess of tears and hasty hugs. Condolences and ‘where have you been’s, and she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to do this. She wasn’t sure she was strong enough to do this.

Natasha would have snuck her a drink to calm her nerves. Tony would have made up some excuse to get her into another room before the tears could fall. But today, she was on her own in this one, having to put on her brave face, and somehow it felt like the hardest thing she’d ever done.

She couldn’t be the weak link today; she couldn’t let that wall fall in front of Pepper. Darcy owed her that much, and so much more.

“You know, they’d both be really proud of you today,” Bucky said, sliding in behind her.

Chin resting on her shoulder, he looked at them both in the mirror.

“The fact that I’m not comatose in my own, personal nervous breakdown?” she asked, joking tone absent.

He kissed her neck, sending shivers up her spine, “The fact that you’re doing this for their family. Your family.”

“Our family,” she corrected, squeezing his hand as she tried to steady herself.

But a knock on her bedroom door sent her jumping a foot in the air, breathing hard to come by as the blood rushed to her ears. Peter stood in the doorway, hands in his pockets as he nervously cycled through whether or not to leave.

“Pete?” Darcy asked, still a little breathless at the fright.

“Sorry, I uh— I’m interrupting…” he rubbed the back of his neck and stared down at the floor. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Happy says people are going to be arriving soon and…” The red in his cheeks and the rims of his eyes gave him away.

He’d been careful not to show the grown-ups just how scared and sad he was, but Darcy would consider it one of the languages she’d grown to be fluent in over the last five years.

It hurt her heart, just looking at him.

Darcy’s body seemed to move of its own accord, slipping out of Bucky’s grasp and across the room. She pulled Peter into a hug that he returned, dumbstruck, as Bucky looked on in silence. As much as she’d been trying to put on a tough show the last few days, she was going to have to get used to the idea of holding on to those she loved a little tighter now. 

And not letting go or pushing them away.

It hadn’t been the easiest lesson to learn, but it was one she’d have to use going forward, to honour their memories.

“I’ll be right down, OK?” she said softly, ruffling his hair a little, and earning a flicker of a smile in return.

Deep breath, a kiss in her hair from Bucky, and a sniff to catch the unshed tears later, she was bounding out of her room and down the stairs. But there was a familiar face on the landing that she hadn’t expected to see so soon. And she was suddenly very thankful she was holding onto the railing, shifting her weight into her right arm to stay upright as shaky legs led her down the last three steps.

“Hi,” Clint breathed, surveying her white knuckles still wrapped around the bannister.

“I, uh…” Darcy started, tears springing up before she could stop them. “I’m so sorry.”

For what she’d said the last time they met. For not saving Natasha from her fate. For his loss. And theirs.

“You did what you had to do,” he whispered, engulfing her in his arms as she tried to temper her sobs. “She was so proud of you. They both were.”

Darcy could feel him shaking in the embrace, whispering his apologies through her hair as she tried her best not to have a full-on breakdown. From over his shoulder, she could spot Pepper wiping a few stray tears from her own eyes as she turned to give them some privacy.

“Can I get in on some of that?” 

Sam Wilson strode over from the front door —so much for Darcy being the greeter today— and she immediately latched onto him in turn. 

Steve wasn’t too far behind, rubbing her back as she greeted all those she’d missed being carried back into the cabin that fateful day. She might have stayed too long in his embrace, thanking him just above a whisper for bringing Bucky back to her.

Sam and Steve moved onto Bucky, who’d finally made his way downstairs as Darcy flitted to the bathroom to make sure she didn’t look like some final girl in a horror movie —even if she did feel like one some days. Mascara cleaned up, and a little bit of cold water was all it took to feel a bit more human. She nudged Bucky to make sure Happy, Pepper and Rhodey ate something before taking up her post at the door.

He shoved a pastry into Darcy’s hand in return, “You have to eat too, Darcy.”

She met the magicians, the extended Ant family, Fury and Hill. They exchanged polite condolences as she guided them towards the back room. Everyone had that same sombre look on their face, far from the celebration the world might have expected after saving the universe.

Bucky kept a close eye on her from across the room. She turned and caught him watching, straight-faced and a little hesitant. The smile he shot her was one of the softer ones, reserved for Darcy’s eyes only. The kind that made her feel warm from head-to-toe, even five years since she’d seen the last one.

It was just after Darcy ushered Carol in that she noticed the door open, a burly blond stood on the porch, unkempt hair and glassy eyes. He was hunched over, watching the commotion in the house apprehensively. 

“Thor?” Darcy breathed.

He looked so different from how she remembered him —she hadn’t seen him much after the fall in Wakanda. And definitely not after she’d left the Compound. But even then, he didn’t look like this. Time had taken a toll on him, guilt too, probably. She could still spot that little twinkle in his eye at the sound of his name, and that was all the permission she needed to launch herself at him in three long strides.

“I’m so glad you’re alright,” Darcy sighed tearfully, fingers digging into the back of the worn suit jacket he’d likely borrowed from someone else. “Jane’s alright. She asked about you.”

He seemed to choke at her words, sucking in a shaky breath as he held her against him with one arm, reluctant to hug back.

“Darcy,” he rumbled. “I am sorry I never came back for you. I did not…” his chest rattled as he drifted off. “I should not have succumbed to my pain only to leave you to dwell in yours. I understand that now.”

Darcy could hear the pain and remorse in his tone, mirroring her own. She hadn’t even thought of trying to reach out to him. Didn’t even consider how losing the battle and Jane might have affected it now. All she could do was take a shuddering gulp of air and squeak out a sad, “Me too, big guy. Me too.”

He seemed to understand, wrapping both arms around her for a tight squeeze before setting her down and introducing her to the space cadets. Darcy hastily wiped away whatever remained of her makeup before turning to greet them all.

A raccoon patted her knee as he passed, mumbling something about having to see a guy about an arm, a small tree hot on its heels.

She was in the middle of listening to a story from the _other_ Peter, Star-Lord, when Bucky’s vibranium hand wrapped around hers from behind. She spun around to find him guiding the rest of the room outback. It was time, but Darcy wasn’t ready to say goodbye. She wasn’t sure she’d ever be. Bucky led her out with the group, settling behind her as they stood on the grounds.

It was a beautiful clear day. The kind Natasha would have loved for hide-and-seek missions. The kind Tony would have spent cooped up in a lab. 

And all that she could see was Pepper’s shaking hands on the shoulders of little Morgan Stark as they set up Tony’s wreath. Clint, Laura and the kids stood at their side down in front, kneeling on the dock at the banks of the stream to set down the one in Natasha’s memory with worn, steady hands. His longest friend, former enemy, mentor, sister.

Somehow seeing Tony’s old arc reactor float down the stream made it all set in for Darcy, side-by-side with the wreath of flowers in black, red and fiery oranges drifting along beside it. 

Bumping heads in death as they did in life.

Those white knuckles returned to grip Bucky’s hand as she tried to keep her breathing steady. If there were speeches, Darcy couldn’t process them, head lost to thoughts of those who couldn’t be there. The family she’d spent the last two years with felt shaken, even though the crowd around her spoke to a community of support. They were both parts of Darcy’s family, even when she thought she had nothing. 

It was awful how terrible things tended to bring people together, right wrongs, and force lessons to be learned. This extended group bonded through shared loss and pain. Coming together when it counted.

But there was still this hole in her chest where something was missing. Something had been taken away.

At some point, the groups dispersed amongst the grounds, clutching drinks and grim smiles as they told tales and caught up. Bucky guided her away, settling along the edge of the water. She knew what he was doing, giving her time to breathe and decompress. Maybe even break down away from prying eyes.

But Darcy’s thoughts were drifting somewhere else, somewhere past the tears and into the numbness.

“We never had one of these for you guys,” Darcy admitted quietly. “None of us wanted to give up. None of us wanted to admit it. But this…”

This was final. It felt final, like the end of a chapter of a book that ended too soon.

She thought he might leave it at that. Darcy was comfortable enough with silence. Let her have her forlorn moment of offering even a breadcrumb as to what things were like in those five lost years. One day he’d get the details out of her —she hoped it’d be a boozy night of truth and not a tearful 2 AM nightmare— but until then, she was still trying to adjust to having him back.

Bucky put his arm around her, letting her head fall to his shoulder as they gazed off.

“You know, I never gave you enough credit before. I always gave you shit during training,” he chuckled at a memory —probably one of her many times hitting the mat. “But you’re no quitter. You’re a fighter, Darce. Always were. Probably why I love you so much.”

Her heart twisted, throat tight as his words settled in. His thumb drew circles on her shoulder as they looked out into the water. Darcy couldn’t look him in the eye, trying to hold back the flood of tears threatening to fall.

“I guess what I’m saying is, I hate that you had to go through that… go through _this_. But you’re here with me now, stronger and feistier than before. And I’m here to help,” Bucky’s voice was low as he kissed her hair. “No matter what. No judgement, nothing. And I know all those people out there feel the same way.”

Darcy held his hand a little tighter, watching the glint of the metal inscription fade off into the distance until it was too far to make out the metallics and florals. 

Bucky added with a mischievous lilt, “Except joke’s on them because you’re all mine.”

Darcy managed a watery chuckle as he pulled her into his chest, kissing her forehead and her lips.

And while it would be months before things between them and the rest of the team felt anything close to a version of normal, Darcy didn’t feel so lost standing here with Bucky. With all of them.

Maybe they could get through this.

Together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that’s the end! Thank you all so much for all of the support. I didn’t expect this story to blow up like this, but I’m really glad it did. I hope you all enjoyed reading it as much as I loved writing it.
> 
> Special thanks to all the lovely humans engaging in the comments section, bookmarks, and with that kudos button.
> 
> As for what’s next, I have a couple of ideas. I have another few Wintershock fics coming down the pipe, including a bodyguard fic that will be up shortly. I’ve also opened up my [prompts](https://pasmonblog.tumblr.com/prompts) if you’d like to add to that list of potential fics. 
> 
> So yeah, no slowing down from me —writing’s the only thing keeping me sane— so I hope to see you all again sometime soon!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading. All comments, kudos and bookmarks are loved and cherished.
> 
> You can also find me on [tumblr](https://pasmonblog.tumblr.com/), where I post comic book content, work updates, and behind-the-scenes commentary.


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